The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [78]
I stayed in that grease-infested trunk for at least a day. It was morning when my mom finally let me out. The daylight burned my eyes. My pants were soaking wet with a combination of dirt, car oil, and urine. We didn’t have any soap or hot water, so my mom bathed me with dishwashing liquid, in a tub of ice-cold water. All of my mother’s welfare money supported her maniac boyfriend’s cocaine habit. There was never any money left for food, just enough for Top Ramen noodles; it was our breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Most of the time we had to eat that raw.
My mom was eight and a half months pregnant. With all the stress in her life, she had to be rushed to the hospital in premature labor. And I was stuck in the house with a child abuser, woman beater, murderer, drug user, and ex-convict. I was constantly being hit. Constantly being told I would never be anything, I ain’t shit, I’ll never be shit. I knew there would be trouble as soon as my mom left for the emergency room. The second this thought entered my mind, this madman started yelling at me. “It’s your fault that she’s gone! Don’t start that crying shit. I ought to beat your ass.”
I was home by myself most of time my mom was in the hospital. My mom’s boyfriend exchanged all her jewelry with his dealer so he could buy his drugs. When my mom came home, the rent and all the bills were overdue, so we were evicted. We were given a week to move, but we didn’t have anywhere to go. We couldn’t move in with my grandmother because her boyfriend caused too much trouble. Our only option was his mother’s house.
We left everything behind—which wasn’t much—and moved into a dingy garage. For two years we lived in a garage with the gardening tools, old furniture, a tiny black and white TV, and a lone mattress in the center. There was no heat, no air-conditioning, no fan, and no restroom. It was just mom, her new daughter, her boyfriend, and me.
When we finally got our own house, her boyfriend took the bedroom, and my mom, my sister, and I slept in the living room. So in essence we’d come full circle. The only difference this time is that I’m older, I understand more, and I have more fear in my heart due to previous beatings. At least once a week there was an argument between the two either over money or me living in the house. Sometimes they just argued over why there’s money in the house and no cocaine. For years he sold drugs out of the house where my mom paid rent. Where my mom paid the bills and bought food.
After living in such chaos for so long, I began to believe my mom’s boyfriend. Maybe I wouldn’t amount to anything, but Ms. Gruwell helped me prove him wrong by making me realize the things he said were not true, and that nothing that happened between him and my mother was my fault.
Diary 92
Dear Diary,
I have finally taken a real vacation. I have always had to go to summer school and I’ve never had time off. Well, thanks to the Freedom Writers, I got to go to the nation’s capital. I had the best time I ever had in my life. My only regret is that I didn’t have a camera during the whole trip to capture this once in a lifetime opportunity.
Everything in Washington, D.C., was great! It was my first time in a really nice hotel. I got to stay up late and didn’t have to worry about my parents telling me to go to sleep. The first two nights, I never slept because I kept thinking my parents were going to call. They never did.
On my way home from Washington, D.C., I finally fell asleep on the plane. I dreamed about the events that happened and how things were going to be when I got home. When we got off the bus, it wasn’t what I expected. My parents were there! At first, I just thought that maybe they were out getting gasoline for the car or eating out, but not to see me. Boy, was I surprised when they came up to me, gave me a hug, and asked me about my trip. I felt so welcome. This is something